Under Covers
by RowenaR
Summary: Sometimes, only revenge keeps you alive. OCs, and the question of the man behind the monster. Among others. COMPLETE.
1. Chapter 1

**Author: **Um... yeah. Haven't been posting anything in a while. Still working on betaing "Big Girl", which I have to do on my own now

**Summary: **Sometimes, only revenge keeps you alive. OCs, and the question of the man behind the monster. Among others. 

**Category:** Angst 

**Rating:** T, just to be on the safe side 

**Disclaimer:** Star Wars on the whole belongs to George Lucas, but the characters displayed in the story are wholly mine. 

**A/N:** This story was inspired by the movie Dutch "Black Book" ("Zwartboek"), and is in fact a kind of adaption. However, I did give it its own storyline and characters. If anyone by chance has seen this movie and likes to compare the story: Feel free to do so, but remember that even when being a kind of adaption, it's still standing on its own ;) 

And please remember that I'm a non-native speaker (and feel somewhat rusty regarding the English language). 

Feedback will earn you a cookie, flames will roast my marsh-mellows.

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**Under Covers**

"That's all for now, Miss Danier. Let's call it a day, mh?" She looked up from her desk, and gave her boss a surprised smile.

"Sir?" A creased forehead, a wrinkled nose, pursed lips. Sievers' face lit up in jovial friendliness. _Men._, she thought with a hint of contempt. _All the same, just everywhere._ And in her head she rolled her eyes. It was only a matter of time now that she had him where she wanted him. Only a matter of time now before she could quit this… job.

"We've worked really hard today. Don't you want to go home?" He winked at her, and she'd almost really rolled her eyes at him. And almost had said something like "Home? I don't have a home. I'll never have one again. And no thanks to you." But it would have gotten her killed. Not that she would have minded, but _others_ would have minded if she'd gotten them killed as well.

So she just said: "Sure, sir. I just… anyway, never mind. And thanks for the early finishing today." Now she gave him a dazzling smile. A promising smile, that said "It's such a lovely day, and I can't wait to get outside and have fun. Why don't you come with me?" And she knew he would come if she would ask. She almost had him where she needed him. She just _knew_ it.

Sievers returned her smile, dimples showing on his cheeks, making him look younger than his actual 36 years. She felt herself blush, and willed herself to believe that she'd done this intentional. Even if she knew full well that no one without conditioning or implants could actually fake blushing. He raised an eyebrow, amusement dancing in his eyes. "Well, well, Miss Danier… if I didn't know better, I'd say you have something to hide from me."

For a moment her heart stopped to beat, and she felt like the world was going black all around her. _He found out. I'm going to die. The others are going to die. Everyone's going to die. Again._, were her only thoughts, just for the fraction of a second. Then, suddenly, she was herself again. Her training had won over, and she was herself again. She blinked, and hoped with all her heart that she hadn't betrayed herself within the moment where she had lost it. Trying to cover up her slip, she lowered her eyes in what looked like embarrassment. "Oh no, sir. You know everything about me. I couldn't hide anything from you." It was a lie. He knew nothing about her. But she'd be a fool to tell him that.

"I hope so. I'd be severely disappointed if… oh if for example you'd have a sweet heart." Nothing in his voice signalled that he had noticed her short black out, but she wasn't so dump as to lull herself into safety. He was, after all, the commander of the local ISB-investigation unit. From Sub-Adult Group through CompForce Observ he'd made it into the higher ranks of the ISB in less than 10 years.

She forced herself to whip her head up again and give him a flirtatious smile. "Then I'm happy I don't have to disappoint you, sir. I was merely looking forward a little shopping trip and maybe eating something at the _Jolly Sullustan_." _Come on, say it. Just ask me._ To encourage him, she lifted her eyebrows in a suggesting way.

But instead of happily asking her, he furrowed his brows into a frown. "The _Jolly Sullustan_? I wouldn't have thought you'd fancy _this_ kind of restaurant." _Yeah, that's 'cause you're a little specieist bastard that can't put up with_ any_thing regarding non-humans._ Something dark inside her stirred deep beneath and she forced herself to put it back into its black place. She knew what it was, but she wouldn't let that cloud her mind. Not now; when she'd come so far. There would come a time for that deep, dark hatred to be released, but _just not now_.

Instead she creased her forehead into a cute little frown and gave her eyes a puzzled glint. "Oh, but it's the best. Well, the best I can afford, I mean…"

He smiled again, and she was a little surprised to see it lacking any joviality or patronizing. She really had him pecked as the type of guy who'd like to show-off. But he was just… smiling, and looking a little sheepish. Like a little boy asking his kindergarten love to come home and play with him. "You know… you've been doing great work here, and you are a tremendous asset. I would really like to gratify this. Would you mind if I invited you to the _Saber Cat's Den_? I'd be… I'd be honoured if you would accompany me."

_Jackpot_., was the only thing she could think of for a moment. _Jackpotjackpotjackpot._ That was it. She had him. She'd waited for this… four long years she'd waited for this. She'd worked hard, hadn't let herself be intimidated when people had started calling her obsessed, had even doubted the use of her mission. She'd just gone on and on and on. She and her team. And now… "I'd… sir, that would be… too much of an honour."

She risked a peek, to see how he was taking it. For a moment she saw his face fall, but he recovered amazingly fast from it. "Oh no, Miss Danier. You've really done a tremendous work here. You were a great help." _Yes. In averting death warrants, in covering up Rebel operations, and in generally sabotaging your work._ Which was, she had to admit, in itself a great achievement – and maybe the only thing why her superiors had allowed her to continue with her chief mission – but it wasn't the actual goal.

"Do you really… I mean, I'm not sure if I have something adequately to wear…" From some distant place she suddenly heard someone laughing. It sounded a lot like Yana. Yana, who always had to endure endless tirades about all those girls parading around and batting their eyelashes and pretending to be helpless little creatures. But Yana was dead. Yana couldn't laugh at her anymore.

He sighed and plunged himself into he seat at the desk opposite from her. He tried a lopsided grin now, and puppy dog eyes. For just a tiny little moment she caught herself staring at him and thinking stuff along the lines of _adorable_, _nice_, _handsome_. But she would not let herself be fooled again. Opposite her was sitting a murderer. A mass murderer. It had taken her half a year to recover. And another half a year to find the man responsible for… everything. And three years to gain enough trust in the local ISB-office to become its commanding officer's personal assistant. Years full of breathless stealth, hushed action… and sometimes she'd been close to fully lose it, to finally forget who she was and what she was. But she made it. All for just one moment. And that moment was almost tangible now. She. Would. Not. Let. Herself. Be. Fooled. Again.

"Miss Danier… I can assure you: Whatever you will be wearing, it will be fine. For me, anyway. So… will you do me the honour?" She felt herself blushing again. It wasn't often people paid her compliments. As a consequence over the years she seemed to have lost the ability to deal with compliments. She could deal with insults, alright. Her team made sure of that. But compliments?

_Stop it. This is an assignment, and you are not in high school anymore. Finish this._ "I… yes, sir. How can a girl withstand such persistence?" And another sweet smile. One with a hint of promises of a… less innocent nature.

Now a full-fledged grin. "Great. I'll send a car, 0730 sharp."

Her mouth formed a little "O", and she batted her eyelashes and said thank you and until later and packed her thinks and went home.


	2. Chapter 2

** Two**

"You know your positions?" Everyone looked at her. Zhane, with his face full of scars. Young Ari, who had come to the team after… the mess, but had always been loyal to the mission. Gun, with his warbles twitching in anticipation. And Ikra, a fire of hate and passion burning in his amber eyes and rippling his fur. All of them nodded. She nodded as well. "Fine. Now, go change and ready the equipment. The car will be here 0730. That's when everything starts. We've got half an hour from _now_."

She started for the 'fresher, but Zhane took hold of her elbow. "Sam… you sure this is the right moment? I've… got a bad feeling about this." For a moment, their gazes locked.

Then she just said: "We already established that you're no Jedi…"

"Tell me just _one_ situation where my gut feelings hadn't been accurate." She rolled her eyes. They'd had this argument before. _Hundreds of times_ before. Sure, Zhane's "hunches" had helped them form time to time. But she just _knew_ it. They had worked for this one chance. She told him so.

"Sam Alric… if we weren't friends for Force knows how long, I would quit right now. Something doesn't feel right, and if we mess this up, three years of hard work will go down the drain." Somehow she had the distinct feeling that he meant it differently from her. But she didn't want to argue with him. Not now. And if she was lucky, she would never again argue with him. Or ever again argue with _anyone_. Only they didn't know that yet.

"You've got your orders, Agent Bertrin. You know what to do." Disappointment passed over his eyes, and it hurt. She was surprised, like every time she actually felt something else than bottomless emptiness.

"Yes, Ma'am." The all-business tone in his voice cut even deeper than the disappointed look. Zhane Bertrin had been her friend now for… what seemed like an eternity. They had their rows, but never before had she pulled rank on him, much less to get out of an inconvenient argument. On everyone else, yes, but not on Zhane.

Finally she went to the 'fresher. She undressed and let the sonic waves roll over her body. Deep inside her, something like regret stirred. Regret that she still hadn't told Zhane that she didn't plan to survive the mission. And that she wasn't about to, either. But he wouldn't understand. Even though he'd been _there_, he wouldn't understand. He'd try to talk her out of it, and they would quarrel, and maybe even do something foolish as to try and save her with giving his own life.

She switched the 'fresher off, and leaned on the tiled wall closing her eyes. Force, she needed to make things right with Zhane before everything went off. She couldn't leave like this, with an unresolved quarrel. Unresolved quarrels led to bitterness, and Zhane didn't need even more of that in his heart. After putting on her best gown – a composition of finest night blue und emerald Lashaa silk, remnant of different times – she hurried out of the 'fresher to find Zhane.

The burly man sat in his room, going through his equipment one last time, checking everything. She took a breath. "Zhane?"

He didn't look up, just said: "What, Commander?"

She took another breath. "I… Zhane, if you think the mission is going to get awry, you've got my permission to step on the brakes. Don't wait for my affirmative, just get yourself and the boys out of trouble." Now he did look up. He was silent, and she thought she actually caught him staring.

She half-waited for him to ask why she excluded herself, but instead he settled with a gruff: "Well, well, who would have thought that Commander Sam Alric is a woman after all." She sat down beside him on the bed, careful as not to wrinkle the delicate silk too much and gave him a slight shove.

"Come on, as if you haven't seen me in a dress before." He shrugged.

"Not since… 5 years or something, anyway." He looked at her and set down the piece of communication equipment he'd been checking. "You know… with all the silk hanging down on you and the colour in your face one could think the Colonel a lucky man."

She turned away. She didn't want to speak about that man now. She just wanted to make sure that things between Zhane and her were right again, and talking about Colonel Sievers was _not_ the way to ensure that. "Zhane… it's only a dress. It's only a mission. Let's not jump to strange conclusions, right."

For a moment he was silent, in his usual thoughtful silence. Then, he slowly said: "Fine. Just keep him talking until we have everything ready." She nodded. Everything was right again. They were talking about the mission like equals. Everything would go as planned. Everything would be okay. Well, sort of, anyway.

"Sure." The door bell chimed. They looked at each other, touching shoulders one last time, and then she was out of the room, hurrying to get her shoes and get into the car. It was only when the driver started the car that she realized that she hadn't told Zhane or any of the others good bye.

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**A/N: **Oi, part Two... who would have thought... Anyway, thanks to Gingercake for the review, and to anyone else who read the first chapter and didn't think it was crap but was too lazy to review. :) 


	3. Chapter 3

** Three**

It was like she had envisioned it. They'd studied the restaurant's blue prints thousands of times, of course. They'd been studying all the important public places' blue prints for years so that she now had them all memorized down to the last staircase. But it was still something completely different seeing it in full glory.

When Sievers took her arm and led her inside, her awe and surprise weren't pretended. She _really_ was overwhelmed with the classical und simple beauty of the rooms, the glittering of _real_ candles, subtly arranged with smooth artificial light. Even in a city so famous for its restaurants, the _Den_ stood out like a Corusca gem from a heap of charcoal.

The room was littered over and over with Imperial Uniforms – white, grey and black alike – but she felt totally calm. They knew that the _Den_ was an establishment that was very popular and in fashion among the higher ranks of Imperial Military and Administration.

Sievers led her towards a table for two that stood in front of one of the enormous windows facing the glittering lights of Chasin City. She smiled as he pulled out her chair for her. A waiter – human, not a droid, she registred – handed her and the Colonel their menus, and she began perusing hers with half-genuine interest.

The other half of her mind was going through the mission plan and listening to the clicks in her ear. She forced herself not to fidget. Technically there was _no_ way they could be detected by Internal Affairs or any other part of the ISB or Imperial section, because their communication devices _were_ standard ISB Internal Affairs issue. But you never knew…

"Is there anything on the menu that's of your particular interest, Miss Danier?", Sievers asked her over his menu, and she pursed her lips. Yes, there was. And didn't everyone deserve a fabulous last meal?

"Actually… yes, sir." He made a face.

"Now… Miss Danier… we're here off-duty. Won't you do me a favour and call me Yanos?" For a moment she felt like throwing up. Yanos. Yana. Yanayanayana. Yanos. She took a deep breath and hoped he would see it as a cover-up for embarrassment.

"Only if you call me Bereen, s… Yanos." She gave him another dazzling smile. The waiter came back, and took their orders. Then she heard a series of clicks. _Zhane and the boys just arrived at the scene. Ikra is at the space port, getting clearance for the_ Red Sprite _and readying the ship for a swift escape._ _They would start prepping everything now._ They put away their menus.

"So… Bereen. That's a beautiful name. Where does it come from?" _From someone your storm troopers murdered. Someone I loved like a brother. Someone who taught me what I will do to you in about half an hour._

"Actually… the origin is not quite clear. My mother liked to tell me that it was the name of a Siskeen princess that was abducted by some horrible monster. Many princes and other nobles set off to find and free her, but in the end she freed herself and married the man who had helped her – the monster's servant boy. I was regularly smitten when she told me the story, and I wanted to be so much like the princess. So valiant and everything." She let her eyes sparkle and twinkle, just like those of a little girl listening to a bedtime story.

Sievers laughed. It was a nice laugh, genuine and open and deep, from the depths of his chest. It was a laugh she might have liked, if it hadn't been Sievers there across from her. She'd never heard him laugh like that before. Obviously he was the kind of man who reserved certain things only for private. "And, _are_ you like Princess Bereen now?" There was a mischievous twinkle in his eyes when he asked her, and she hated him for that. How could he sit here with her and be so… _charming _and so _sane_, when he had the blood of hundreds of people on his hand?

"I would like to say yes, but I fear that it is up to others to judge that." She winked at him, and he smiled back. Before he could answer, the waiter brought their food, and they started eating, exchanging pleasantries and flirtatious nothings. She learned that he was from Ralltiir, that he preferred Neonan red cheese to Deneelian fizz-pudding, when it came to dessert, that he found "The Black Bantha" was rather dull and obvious propaganda than a work of art… she learned more about him than she ever wanted to know. She learned, in fact, that he was human. That the monster he was, was hidden behind the façade of a normal human being. Or was it the other way around?

When they were halfway through their meal, another series of clicks sounded through her ear. _Ikra has the_ Sprite _up and running. Zhane has taken his position on the roof. Gun has his sniper rifle ready. Ari has hidden her weapon in the Ladies' Room._ Only a short time now. Only a short time until she would finally find her peace of mind. While she was idly making conversation with Sievers, she allowed herself to retreat into her mind and think about the last four years.

It seemed like everything from _before_ belonged to someone else, not to Samara Alric. Her childhood in the slums of Coronet City, her escape, her decision to join the Rebels, her first five years in the service of the Alliance Intelligence – all of that seemed to belong to another woman. The only years that now seemed real to her were the four years _after_. After Sievers' people had destroyed the Passive Operations base she'd worked on. No prisoners, devastation everywhere, hundreds of people dead. Hundreds of _innocent_ people, because the Stormies just had blasted the whole complex to hell, not caring that most of its inhabitants were in fact civilians. Mostly non-human civilians. The only reason why she'd not been among the dead had been that she'd been off organising supplies. She and Zhane and Gun and Ikra. They'd been the only survivors of the whole base, the whole _complex_.

The boys had recuperated pretty fast, but she… she'd needed half a year to learn to behave normally again. And ever since then… she'd somehow lost her will to live. Her only goal had been to take the one man responsible for everything to her grave, and she would do so today.

She forced herself back into the present. "Yes?"

"Do you want anything for dessert?" A series of clicks in her ear told her that her timeframe had just shrunken to five minutes. _Okay. So no dessert then._

"Actually… no. But…," she lowered her voice conspiratorially; "They say that you have the best view at the city from the roof of this building. You don't… happen to…"

"Have access to the roof?" He smiled as conspiratorially at her. Then he waggled his eyebrows. "Of course I have. I'm still director of an ISB-office." Ah, finally, a sign of showing-off. So he wasn't _all_ Prince Charming. She noted that with quite a bit of satisfaction.

"Oh… please." She batted her eyelashes, and he laughed. It was the nice, deep, open laugh again. She forced herself not to let herself be smitten by it. He signalled for the waiter, and she excused herself for a minute to the Ladies' Room.

When she was back, she had a blaster strapped to her right leg, artfully enough so he wouldn't notice it until it was too late. With her index finger, she tapped her right ear twice. She got an affirmative.

Laughing and flirting they took a turbo lift and a short flight of stairs to the roof, and then they were standing on it. Again she was truly mesmerized. It _was_ the best view all over the city. Lights were sparkling, overhead the stars were twinkling… it was magnificent. He put an arm around her hips and stepped behind her. With a delicate movement, he put a stray strand of her dark hair behind her ear and leaned down to whisper something.

It was that moment, where she reached for her gun, got it and wheeled around fast. They were still standing impossibly near to each other, and her blaster point was positioned right under his chin. One bolt would kill him. And then she made her first mistake since four years: She didn't shoot immediately.

Faster than she could react, he had his hand around her wrist and forced her blaster away from his chin and to point at her own chest. And then he made his first mistake since four years: He didn't shoot immediately.

For a full minute they stood there, saying nothing, only staring each other, with the night breeze softly rustling over the roof. Then, suddenly, the _Sprite_ was there, and all hell broke lose. She kicked him in the groin, he doubled over, she pointed her blaster at him and shouted: "Look at me, Yanson Sievers, because I will be your death as you have been the death of hundreds and thousands of other beings!" If she'd been still in her right mind, she would have found the whole speech kind of cheesy, but she wasn't in her right mind anymore. Maybe hadn't been for the whole evening.

Yanson Sievers looked at her. And she wanted to pull the trigger. But suddenly she was knocked over by a rock, or so it seemed. A moment later the rock identified itself as Zhane, who was holding her down now. A blaster shot rang through the air, but it was a blue one. A stun shot. Gun had deliberately set his sniper rifle to stun.

Red fury grabbed her, and she screeched loudly, eventually managing to shove Zhane off her. Frantically she searched for her blaster and found it. She aimed at Sievers' now lifeless form, but before she could shoot, Zhane had her in his iron grip again. "A trial, Sam. We're here for getting him to a _trial_! _Not_ for takin' the law into our hands!", he roared into her ears. A few meters away from them, the _Sprite_ set down at the roof, and from not so far behind the sound of TIE-fighters coming nearer could be heard. They had to get away _now_, if they wanted to make it out of there alive.

She struggled against Zhane's hand, but the big man just wouldn't let her go. Ari had already taken Sievers into the ship, and only Zhane and she were still outside. Resorting to desperate measures, she bit him into the arm, and the surprised Zhane let her go again. She took her blaster to her head, looked at Zhane, mouthed a "Forgive me.", pulled the trigger… and nothing happened. Just… _nothing_. For a full second, she looked at it, dumbfounded.

Strong arms grabbed her again and dragged her towards the ship. From the roof's entrance, blaster shots rang towards them, but her captor just kept going for the ship. She didn't put up any resistance anymore. What use did it have? They wanted to deny her peace, anyway.

In her stupor she missed how they reached the ship, and how Ikra managed to get them through the phalanxes of TIE-fighters and Imperial warships. Only when they'd reached a secluded spot of deep space she realized that they'd left Commenor, and that she was still alive.

She blinked. She was lying in the med bay, just opposite from Sievers. He was still out of it, and he looked strangely peaceful there on his cot. Hate welled up inside her, and she wanted to jump up and strangle him to finish it, but found that she was bound to her cot. Bound. To her cot. By her _team_, her _friends_. She wanted to scream.

But all she did was close her eyes again when she heard the door to the med bay open. By the heaviness of the steps she concluded that it was Zhane coming in. Zhane the traitor. Contempt welled up inside her. She heard him shuffle around. Then he said: "Look, Sam… I know what you think now of us all. You think we're traitors. You think we betrayed our comrades – Yana and Bereen and Mashan and all the others – because we wouldn't let you kill Sievers. And because I wouldn't let you kill yourself. But the truth is, Sam: I don't let a friend down, and I haven't let you down now. I've seen the death wish in you, right from the beginning, and I hoped that the deep cover mission in the ISB-office and the work you could do there would make it disappear, but you had only one thing to live for: Kill Sievers. But that's not… it's not what someone should live for. Because, look, if we would have killed him on our own and without a trial, we wouldn't be better than _they_ are. We would be as bad as them. That's not what we're fighting for, and I just won't let anyone compromise that, not even you. In fact… I want you to start living again. Forget about this man, and start living again. And don't let yourself be corrupted by hate and revenge. Think about that."

With that, he left the med bay again, but she kept her eyes closed. It had been the longest speech she had ever heard from him. It had been so full of truth, even if she wasn't quite ready to fully admit that to herself. And it had been full of affection for her, filling her with affection for the big man. The disappointment she had heard in his voice cut deep, again. So she started to think, and then tears were starting to roll down her cheek. Tears she hadn't been able to shed for four long years.

Faces of the dead were appearing before her eyes. Yana, laughing at something, her braids flying around her head. Bereen, giving her instructions in hand-to-hand-combat, full of concentration. Mashan, hugging her shoulders after her first mission gone wrong… all the others, as well. She realized they'd never have approved of her single-mindedness concerning Sievers. She realized she _had_ done a lot of good on Commenor, which had been a lot more important than shooting Sievers. She realized… she realized that maybe there _was_ a live _after_, and that she wanted to have a taste of it.

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**A/N: **Oh well, we're done here. At first: cookies to the rewiers. Or marshmellows? Muffins? I'm pretty flexible ;) And second:... Ihave some vague ideas for further stories with Commander Alric and Colonel Sievers in my head, but I'm not quite sure if it's any use trying to clarify those and work a little more on them. So? Any suggestions? 


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